No Inhibitions
by Wench of Hogsmead
Summary: Harry drinks a potion that strips him of all reserve. Now he and Prof. Snape must deal with the consequences. No Slash. Cutting.
1. Chapter 1

No Inhibitions

Professor Snape's voluble, cavernous voice echoed in the silent potions classroom. "Today, we will be brewing the _Nullus Timor_, or No Inhibitions draught. It strips a person of all reserve and allows them to express their inner most desires… stop snickering! Desires that the person would have otherwise have been too embarrassed or influenced not to express. It was used during the crusades to give soldiers a fiercer desire to destroy the enemy. It backfired, however, when they discovered that many of the soldier's true desires were to flee the army and return to their homes. Now, I will presume that at least one among you will complete this potion correctly before the end of class, at which point I will select who will demonstrate it's effects." Not surprisingly, his dark eyes immediately landed on Harry Potter.

Harry had expected this. Almost every class he was chosen to demonstrate a potion, especially if the potion was brewed incorrectly. Of course, that was the story of his life… taking on another's possible misfortune, sparring everyone else at the cost of his own pride, his life, or his sanity. Since learning of the prophecy, Harry had remained cold. He was literally empty, void of all thought and feeling. It seemed, however, that he accepted despair as a constant part of his being. After all, Sirius was his last hope at a happy life, in a loving home. No, he had no more dreams, no hope. It's ironic that the wizarding world's last hope had no hope of his own. He remained only to serve his purpose in the war. He had an obligation, and the future of the wizarding world rested on this poor boy's slumped shoulders. At the moment, Harry was rather interested in what this potion he knew he would be consuming shortly would do to him. He had no current love interest, nor any hidden desires to name (save for defeating Voldemort). The only thing he ever really wanted was to be with his family, but a potion couldn't make that happen!

"Potter, have you even begun your potion? Or were you too busy napping?"

Harry hadn't even realized that the professor had been talking to him, so his logical response was "Huh?"

"Well, luckily for you, Ms. Granger has completed the draught first, and entirely without your help. Naturally, you will be failing this lesson for your lack of effort, and for your non-existent attention span. Also, twenty points from Gryffindor for using this class to daydream."

A collective groan could be heard from the Gryffindor student, but none dared to protest. As for Harry, it didn't much matter. It wasn't as if he would be around much longer anyway… house points were irrelevant.

"Potter, drink it."

Harry didn't object, he shot the vile potion down his throat, but made no outward expression of its fowl taste. The class waited for his reaction. All eyes were focused intently on him. After all, everyone wondered what Harry Potter would do if he had no inhibitions, nothing to hold him back, and most importantly, no responsibility.

Harry waited patiently as the potion began to settle. He felt a slight cloudy feeling in his head, just behind the eyelids, but nothing painful. Well… that was ineffective.

The class watched in horror as he suddenly went ridged. He stared blankly ahead, with no emotion crossing his face. He blindly reached for a small razor that he was supposed to have been chopping dragon's liver with. In one swift motion, and without flinching, he touched the razor to the inner part of his wrist and pressed down, hard. Blood was f'lowing from the open vein freely. Dark crimson liquid flowed down his arm and onto the desk. As the realization of what he had done suddenly dawned on him, he stared half horrified and half disgusted at the wound with the rest of the class. He glanced around the room quickly, noting that some looked as if they were going to be sick, but most only gawked at him in shock.

His mind was reeling with questions.

'This is my innermost desire?'

'This is what I want?'

'This is the only way to be with my family?'

'What will Ron and Hermione think?'

'Why don't I care?'

'Why do I feel happy?'

'Why can't I feel my arm?'

He had been so absorbed in trying to sort things out that he had forgotten about the still heavily bleeding cut.

Snape's shell-shocked expression soon turned serious. He cast a binding charm on the wound. Harry watched in fascination as bandages shot out form the professor's wand and tightly wound themselves around Harry's wrist.

"Potter, get up! You need to go to the hospital wing! Foolish boy…"

Harry braced himself on the desk with his left hand, but found himself sinking to the floor almost immediately after attempting to stand. His mind was so devoid of blood that he hardly registered that Snape had wrapped an arm around his waste and was slowly helping him to exit the classroom.

"Finish your potions, clean up this mess, and dismiss yourselves when the potions are labeled and on my desk for when I return."

Harry still hadn't said anything. He was too dizzy and too confused to form a statement that could possibly verify his actions.

Meanwhile, Snape was internally berating himself for being so stupid. How could he have allowed Potter to drink that? He should have known it would bring some sort of disaster! He knew that the boy was emotionally an absolute mess, but he had no idea how severe it was. Harry Potter, the boy who live, son of his childhood rival, attempted suicide right in front of him. The boy's life was ruined. The Prophet would get a hold of this knowledge, as would Voldemort, and his classmates… well... whatever their reaction he doubted it would help the boy's fragile condition. That's exactly what he is at the moment, the professor mused. 'He's absolutely fragile. He would fall and die of blood loss if I didn't support him.' The thought should have been pleasing, amusing, but it only unnerved the already guilty potion's master. Potter's silence wasn't helping matters.

"Potter, say something!"

"I… I want to go."

Snape stopped their slow walk to the hospital wing and stared at him questioningly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Let me go. Please… I just want to go."

Snape lost hold of the boy as Harry turned his body and sunk down the corridor's wall. He lay on the cold stone floor and gazed up at him with the most desperate, pleading, lonely eyes that he had ever seen. Eye's that didn't belong on Potter's face, a look that didn't belong in Lily's eyes.

"I want to be with my family… I don't want… to stay… please… don't…"

Harry's eyes fluttered shut and he lost consciousness. The blood was clearly seeping through the bandages. Snape was at a loss for words. His mind couldn't fathom the situation. He cast a _locomotor _spell on the boy's body traveled to the hospital wing, with Harry Potter floating in his path.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

No Inhibitions Ch2

"Oh my! Place him there. Quickly!"

Madam Pomfrey directed the professor to a vacant bed to the left of the hospital wing. She gently cradled Harry's shoulders in order to prop his upper body onto a pillow.

"Severus, hold his hand. Gently! I need to remove these bandages."

Snape rested Harry's hand in his as Pomfrey unbound the wrappings. The wound was still gushing blood profusely, and his arm was turning a sickly purple tone. Madam Pomfrey conjured a wet washcloth and handed it to the obviously uncomfortable potions master.

"Press this to the cut. Hard! We need to stop the flow of blood."

She scurried across the room to a large cabinet that held a number of healing potions, and searched through them hurriedly. Snape was holding the cloth to the wound. He used its damp edges to wipe of the blood that had dripped down the sides of Harry's arm. Pomfrey returned with a clear salve of some kind. She moved the cloth and applied a liberal amount to the now clean wound. The blood was sealed beneath the coating.

"That should do it. Don't move! Keep his arm elevated, that salve needs to be exposed to air so that it can properly allow the wound to heal. Once it is fully sealed I'll administer a blood-replenishing potion. He'll be fine by morning."

'Not likely,' Snape thought dryly.

"Now, tell me Severus… Did he do this to himself?" Her voice was clearly full of distress.

"He did. But, it wasn't fully on his own accord." Snape couldn't bring himself to say 'It was my fault,' though he felt fully responsible. Madam Pomfrey seemed to sense that he didn't want to tell her the whole story.

"Well, I'll get the headmaster. I can only do so much for the boy… but I suspect that the scar on his wrist will cause him as much pain as the one on his head… that poor boy." She turned away with tears in her eyes as she exited the hospital wing.

Snape whispered the statement she had just made… "Poor boy." It didn't seem right to say that in reference to the son of Lily and James Potter. He had always imagined the boy being privileged and arrogant. He was aware of all the hardships the boy had faced, but "poor" didn't describe him at all. Harry had fame, he had friends, and he had the backing of the entire wizarding world!

'If that were true, then what compelled the boy to do this? He couldn't have wanted attention. That potion was brewed accurately, and by Hermione Granger no less! It couldn't be wrong! So, maybe he didn't want fame so much. But he does have friends… two of them. It couldn't have been Sirius. The boy hardly new the man!'

A million reasons ran through his head. He could think of none that made sense. The only thing he was sure of was that the boy truly wanted to die… and he must have had good cause as well. Harry Potter was NOT week.

Snape still cradled Harry's hand in his. He saw that the purple tone to his skin was still present. The boy's hand was thin, and fragile. Harry was fragile, and this realization scared him. He was overall to skinny for his age. He had paleness to his skin, even before this incident. Snape mused that it must have been from his lack of outdoor activity. In earlier years, he had a healthy tan look from quidditch, and he was well toned. Now, his skin looks too tight for his frame, and he has dark circles under his eyes. 'He looks sickly, fragile, and lonely. Poor boy...'

The headmaster entered the hospital wing, with Madam Pomfrey on his heals. He took a moment to observe the sight. After all, it's not every day you see the Boy-Who-Lived with his much hated potions master holding his hand after a public suicide attempt.

"Poppy, will you leave us for a moment."

Dumbledore stood next to Harry's still form. His eyes looked older than usual. He looked regretful and guilty, much like how Snape felt.

"What have I done to you," he whispered.

Snape was confused at the statement. "Headmaster. It was my doing. I made Potter drink a No Inhibitions potion, and this was the result. Believe me Albus, I did not intend for this to happen." Snape couldn't will himself to hold his head high and look at the headmaster as he usually did.

"No Severus. This was beyond your doing, and it should have been expected long ago. I am to blame most of all."

"What are you on about?"

"It began with my decision to put him in a home with his muggle relatives, and to keep the wizarding world a secret from him. Were you aware that they kept him in a cupboard?"

Snap was startled. He had always envisioned Harry in a loving home where his relatives would fret over him constantly. But… "a cupboard?"

"Yes. They despise anything 'abnormal,' and Harry fits that definition perfectly. I knew this, but I kept him there because I believed it was best." The headmaster gave a heavy sigh. He looked weak, and tired.

"I have kept many things from him, Severus, all because I believed it to be for his own good. He has been denied so many things in his life. His parents, a loving family, and last year, he was stripped of the one thing that had always driven him and gave him his strength."

"Which was…"

"Hope. Severus. I have taken that from him. Almost immediately after his godfather's death… I showed him the prophecy. I will tell you only that his future will hold either death or murder. I was a fool to tell him that in such a fragile state of mind. He's just a boy. The entire wizarding world relies on his strength, but we have expected too much. He's a child…" Dumbledore was failing at his attempt to hold back tears. Snape just watched him. He was once again at a loss for words. Two of the strongest wizards of the age had broken down in front of him, in the same day.

"I fear, Severus, that our savior has given up. Tell me… did he say anything to you?"

"Yes… he said… let me go."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

No Inhibitions Ch3

Severus entered the Great Hall. For some reason, beyond his own comprehension, he had wanted to stay with Potter in the Hospital Wing. However, Albus asked that he be present at the meal.

Many curious and distraught eyes of the students bore into his form as he approached the teacher's table. He ignored them, but spared a glance at Granger and Weasley. Hermione looked at him briefly, and he could tell she had been crying a great deal. Ron looked… guilty, for some reason. He had a hand on Hermione's back, trying to comfort her, but was failing. The entire Gryffindor table had the same look on their faces. They looked… ashamed, saddened, and scared.

The Slytherins hadn't looked pleased, as one would expect. They looked rather blank. They were quite, and serious. All except Draco, that is. He looked as if someone had just taken his favorite plaything away from him.

Severus observed the staff table, and they all looked distressed. McGonagall was holding back tears, and Hagrid was all out blubbering like an idiot. He excused himself sometime later, and could be heard wailing all they way down the hall.

"Severus how is he?"

"No better, Minerva. He's still sleeping. A blood-replenishing potion has been administered. He'll be back on his feet by morning."

"Has he said anything to you?"

"No."

As much as he disliked the boy, he would not sully his name by letting everyone think he's given up. It would cause too much panic… not that the emotional damages this ordeal has caused won't have already caused panic once the Prophet gets a hold of this information. Snape still couldn't figure out how Potter could live with that feeling suppressed for all this time. He DID looked as shocked as everyone else when he sliced his wrist… but the shock turned to contentment as soon as he began loosing blood. 'I suppose if he hadn't the responsibility to save everyone, he would just want to be with his family. The only problem is that they're dead… his whole family is dead. The boy's completely alone.' This was the first time, during the entire awful day, the Snape wore the teary-eyed, distressed expression that adorned everyone else's face.

"Everyone. May I have your attention for a moment."

The hall was silent as Dumbledore approached the podium.

"I don't feel that I must recount the event that took place earlier this afternoon. I'm sure all of you know by now. I will tell you that Harry has been treated, and will be capable of returning to his classes tomorrow morning. Whether or not he chooses to do so will be up to him. I must ask you, caution you, to choose wisely how you treat him. He is in a very delicate state of mind. If any of you have concerns, or need counseling, please see your head of house. I will at last say that if Harry is to recover from this ordeal, he needs our help, and our support. It is with Harry's best interest in mind that I ask you not to notify your families of this incident, if you have not already done so. Having the entire wizarding world know of his condition will not at all help him recover. Thank you."

It seemed as if his words had certainly affected the Gryffindor table. A wave of determination seemed to have spread over them. 'Probably want to save their savior,' Snape mused.

"Prefects, accompany the students to their dormitories. Teachers, please wait for me in my office."

The students began filing out of the room, though Hermione and Ron lingered for a moment, looking at the headmaster expectantly.

"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, follow me to the hospital wing. You as well Severus."

Snape was startled at the request, to say the least. He had been hoping to stop by to see how Potter was fairing, but certainly not in the company of Potter's ever-faithful companions.

The walk was awkward and silent the entire journey. Albus had yet to speak, Snape refused to speak, and Hermione and Ron were to devastated to speak. Therefore, the silence was extremely uncomfortable, and Albus was missing that reassuring twinkle in his eye.

When they reached the hospital wing, Hermione and Ron ran to his side immediately. Hermione was sobbing, and Ron was holding Harry's hand.

"I fear that he may not recover from this," Dumbledore said gravely.

"Yes he will! Harry's strong! He's always been strong!" Hermione hollered back at him, desperate for her own words to be true. She then continued bawling.

"Severus, please tell them what Harry said to you. They need to know."

Dumbledore had that foreboding look in his eyes that clearly told Severus that he had no choice in the matter.

Reluctantly, he obliged.

"He said to let him go, that he wants to be with his family."

Hermione simply cried harder, and buried her face in her hands. Ron looked absolutely crushed.

"But… but we're his family. My family loves him… he's not alone…"

"Well Weasley, you might want to tell that to him before he tries this again."

Snape suddenly felt a bit protective of Harry, and frustrated with Wealsey. 'If Potter had felt loved and accepted, then he wouldn't have tried to kill himself!'

"I think it's time to leave Harry to rest. I trust you two to return to the tower. Severus, meet me in my office."

They exited the hospital wing, but Severus remained behind. He sat down beside Harry, and took his hand in his once again.

"Potter, you're in for a rough day tomorrow…"

'And a rough life.'

TBC


End file.
